


Think Of Me

by WoodlandGoddess1



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: Just looking at her made his stomach twist with want.It made him feel feverish and bold.





	Think Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based on the Once and Future Queen episode -- which contains one of the Arwen scenes I love most. I wanted to explore what their relationship might be like, if there had been more development. More backstory. I loved working on this fic and I hope fellow Arwen shippers love reading just as much.

Triumph surged through him. It pulsed through his limbs and pounded to the violent thundering of his heart. His fingers tingled with it. His muscles bunched like a feline preparing to pounce. Triumph sounded like giddiness when it escaped his lips as he burst into the house he’d slept in during the tournament.

It sounded like a child bursting at the seams with giggles.

Fortunately, the outburst didn’t last long before he managed to quell it.

Arthur glanced at his hostess quickly, his face warming, relieved that the flush of exertion remained to conceal his embarrassment. But he needn’t have worried: Gwen smiled openly, warmly, the apples in her cheeks swelling with happiness and the amber irises in her gaze twinkling.

Just looking at her made his stomach twist with want.

It made him feel feverish and bold.

Arthur forced himself to look away, to tear his attention from the gentle curves of her face and the soft curl that defied the pins in her hair to caress her cheek. His heart jumped into his throat as he moved further into the house and tried to put some distance between them. Tried to remember that he couldn’t let himself grow more attached than he was already, more attached than he’d been when he was a boy, having just turned fifteen at the time. He’d been so awkward and uncomfortable when dealing with beautiful girls then. He hadn’t been able to focus on much more than their smiles and the tantalising scents that clung to their hair and their clothes. Not to mention the soft swell of breasts contained within embroidered bodices. He’d been a storm of frustrated desires and attraction when he was a boy, often having to escape such beautiful girls and hide in the nearest alcove. Often having to stroke himself to completion before he exploded at the seams.

Fortunately, he’d made a great deal of improvement in his interactions with women since then. He’d had no choice but to improve. His former role as Heir Apparent and his current role as Crown Prince had forced him into situations where dealing with women was a requirement. Arthur could never know whether the next noblewoman introduced to him might be a potential bride someday; that absence of knowledge forced him to be warm and welcoming, charming, and sophisticated. He couldn’t afford to offend a single noblewoman that glanced his way; doing so could mean the crumbling of alliances. Not to mention the fact that his father would tan his hide for humiliating him in front of the court and potential suitors. But he’d also been forced to distance himself from the common women that took his fancy, the women that snared his mind and bewitched his senses.

Women like Gwen.

Unfortunately, forcing himself to put distance between himself and Gwen was one of the hardest choices he’d ever made. Arthur wanted to be selfish. He wanted all the things he’d denied himself for so long, clinging to his sense of duty, hoping that he’d earn approval from his father at last.

But he never managed to achieve that.

Nothing he did ever managed to achieve that.

Spending his nights with Gwen made him realise it. It made him realise that he’d distanced himself for nothing, that he’d denied himself for nothing, and a brighter future was almost within his grasp.

Arthur wanted that future. He didn’t want a marriage of convenience. He didn’t want a political match to unite two powerful kingdoms. He wanted to love and be loved in return. He wanted to touch soft skin and know it was welcome. He wanted to be touched until he shivered in ecstasy; his desire for such an intimate union was so strong, but he knew there were more important things in life. Small things mattered more than the world. Arthur wanted those small things. He wanted to feel the warmth of her hand curled around his elbow as the pair of them walked down the street. He wanted to tuck flowers glittering with morning dew behind her ear and hear the soft peal of her laugh as he made a fool of himself in some fashion.

Making a fool of himself was the surest method of achieving that laughter.

Not to mention the sweetest smile that ever graced that plush mouth.

Just thinking about her mouth had Arthur glancing in her direction discreetly, his blood pounding in his ears. He wanted to sweep Gwen into his arms and ravish her against the nearest wall. He wanted it so much that sometimes he forgot himself. Usually, forgetting himself meant the brief tangle of their fingers when rescuing a falling basket of clothes before it could tumble down the stairs. It meant the graze of his hand against her upper arm when allowing her to precede him through a doorway, a small smile curling around his mouth as Gwen glanced at him in delighted surprise.

Things that could be misconstrued as accidents or innocence.

His actions that morning, however, could never be misconstrued as an accident. He hadn’t tripped over his own feet and crashed their mouths together accidently; he’d chosen to step forward and snare her mouth in a soft kiss after she’d offered her token to him. He’d chosen to break the rules. He’d chosen to do what he wanted and not what he ought. He’d forgotten his duty, he’d been so overcome with tender selfishness.

Holding her token in his hand had reminded him of the first time he’d fought in a tournament. It had reminded him of the moment Gwen had broken the rules and stepped into the pavilion after his father left. She’d found him on the verge of collapsing beneath the pressure his birth and his position at court forced upon him. Pressure his father had intensified each time he took him aside and reminded him of the future waiting — the hopes and expectations that rested upon his shoulders. Gwen had frozen at the sight of him and then she’d crashed into him roughly, throwing her arms around him without an ounce of warning, and whispering fiercely, “Don’t listen to him! Winning the tournament doesn’t matter. Your best is enough for us.”

“Us?”

“Me. Morgana. The people in the streets.” Gwen had smiled warmly, her hands resting against his upper arms as she’d withdrawn from the unexpected embrace. Her warmth had filtered through his chainmail and gambeson with startling ease. She’d smelled like roses that day, the soft scent snaring him with more force than her arms had. Arthur had struggled to hide his tremble as he’d searched her face for a moment and tried to understand what brought her to the pavilion in the first place. He’d been awful the last time he’d been so close to her. But his attempts to understand made no progress. Just the warm weight of her hands had turned him into a puddle. He’d wanted her so fiercely, and for so long, that he’d almost given in to the urge to kiss her. His heart had tried to punch a hole through his throat as she’d added gently, “Your future people.”

Arthur had stared at her in confused wonder. Slowly, her words had filtered through his head and settled over him like a warm blanket. The mere idea that someone believed he was good enough had startled him completely; he’d been a disappointment to his father on more occasions than he could count. To disappoint a king was to disappoint a realm or so he’d been led to believe when growing up. That Gwen and the others from the lower town would be proud of him regardless of triumph in the arena had threatened to undo him entirely; so much so that he’d had to fight against his blurring vision as Gwen smiled up at him.

Gwen wore the same smile now. It made the longing he’d tried to quell flare within him. Arthur couldn’t help letting his attention follow her as she breezed past him. Her skirts caressed the floor as she moved. Gwen set a wicker basket filled with crumbs down on the table and unclasped her cloak a moment later. It fell from her shoulders slowly, revealing the soft curls caressing the back of her neck and the beginning of her delicate shoulders.

Arthur swallowed thickly, his toes curling in his boots and his breath catching in his chest at the sight. He watched her raptly, longing to know what it would be like to enfold her in his embrace and brush those soft locks aside with gentle fingers. He wondered what it would be like to graze a tender kiss against the back of her neck. Her skin looked so smooth and tantalising, so soft and inviting, that it took an immense amount of effort to stop himself from closing the distance between them. Arthur couldn’t help wondering whether that soft and supple skin would melt beneath the warmth of his tongue. He couldn’t help wondering whether Gwen would melt in his embrace as he’d melted in hers so long ago.   

Gwen had never been like the girls and women he’d met at court. Nor had she been like the common girls that crossed his path. She’d never carried that sense of entitlement and expectation that made walking through the corridors of his own home feel like he was nothing more than a bull on display, his presence designed to tease potential breeders with his pedigree and his strength. She’d never made him feel like a political conquest. She’d never made him feel like a prized animal or a piece of meat to salivate over as he strode through the lower town. Arthur had never felt more like a regular person than when he’d spent time with Gwen as a boy; the incontrovertible lines dividing them had seemed to blur as the pair of them — and Morgana — threw caution to the wind and dived headlong into games that would have left his father apoplectic.

Not that he’d known about their games.

When Arthur and Morgana were young, the pair of them had been so careful to keep the truth from his father. The three of them had learned the castle inside and out during their exploits — and all to avoid the sentries on duty, hoping to prolong their games for another bit longer.

Those incontrovertible lines between Arthur and Gwen had blurred so much that he’d ceased to be a nobleman when she looked at him and she’d ceased to be a servant when he beheld her. He was Arthur and she was Gwen. That had been enough for them. Gwen hadn’t been afraid of his rank in the least. She hadn’t been afraid to approach him at the base of the steps leading into the castle as she returned from the errands she’d been running for Morgana. She hadn’t been afraid to offer a flower from the bunch she’d picked for her mistress. She hadn’t been afraid to smile at him openly, the soft apples in her cheeks blossoming and her gaze twinkling, adding brightly, “A cornflower to bring out those soft blues!”

Momentarily, his heart had swelled with warmth. The idea that she’d thought of him while out gathering flowers had been enough to make his palms damp with sweat. It had been enough to make his stomach start performing a series of somersaults. It had been enough to make him want to close the distance between them and kiss her cheek softly, but spotting one of the councilmen closest to his father watching him from one of the windows overhead had put an end to that. It had spurred him to slap her hand away, to send the flower she’d offered him to the cobblestones. It had spurred him to step closer and snap harshly, “You presume far too much! Do so again and I’ll be forced to take action!”

Gwen had blinked at him in horrified shock before stammering an apology, her voice choking up. A veil of tears had swelled to the surface as she’d ripped her gaze away, looking as though he’d just slapped her across the face. She’d shouldered past him without another word and disappeared into the castle. Arthur hadn’t turned to watch her flee him. He hadn’t turned to explain himself. He’d swallowed the grief that surged through his chest and threatened to escape upon a sob. He’d curled his hands into fists that trembled with emotion at his sides. He’d glanced up at the councilman watching him from above and wanted to vomit upon seeing the approval etched upon his wrinkled face.

His heart breaking, Arthur had looked down at the flower forgotten on the ground. His lungs had seized in his chest at the sight. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from crouching and scooping the delicate flower into his hand. He’d cradled it close to his chest as he’d retreated and returned to his chambers quickly, storming through the castle with a fervour that ensured he’d be left alone: the servants and guardsmen alike had avoided him like the plague. He’d locked himself away, his heart crumbling, and his vision blurring, and he’d forced himself to push on as he’d retrieved one of his personal texts. He’d slipped the flower between its pages and he’d sank down in the chair behind his desk as the future pressed down upon his shoulders with immense force.

Tears had spilled down his face at last.

Arthur had bowed his head slowly, cradling the text to his chest. He’d known that Camelot would take his happiness away, but he’d sworn that afternoon that he’d cling to the last vestiges of his heart until he died.

Just remembering that afternoon flooded him with immeasurable grief.

His vision blurring, Arthur forced himself to stride further into the room. He passed Gwen and somehow managed to refrain from inhaling the scent of lavender that clung to her raven curls. He reached up and loosened the knot keeping his sling in place before setting it aside carefully, his movements measured. He unbuckled his belt with care and set that aside as well. It took an enormous effort to stop himself from stealing another glance at the woman he loved. Arthur reached for the hem of his hauberk and gasped sharply, pain spiking through his chest and shoulder.

“Oh!” Gwen glanced at him immediately, an expression of guilt flickering across her soft features. She stepped around the table and reached for him without thinking, her tone insistent as she said quickly, “Let me help!”

“Guinevere.” His voice almost cracked around her name. Arthur hadn’t been in such an intimate position with her in so long; it threatened to undo him altogether. He struggled to muster his sense of duty, his courage to put an end to this before it was too late. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Hush.” Gwen batted his hesitant hands aside and stepped closer immediately, her voice strong as her presence drove him back a step. Her voice was almost commanding, a hint of what she could be one day, if the world would give her a chance to attain it. Arthur blinked at her dazedly, his abdomen tightening with longing as the scent clinging to her raven curls assailed his senses. His skin tingled as the possibilities tantalised him. “You need help. Don’t be a stubborn fool.”

Arthur retreated another step instinctively, his heart pounding in his chest as Gwen loomed into his personal space. He wobbled as the back of his knees hit one of the chairs. His heart jumped into his throat as her hands pressed against his shoulders and he sank down on the chair without thinking, his hands snaring her hips to stabilise himself as he almost slipped off the edge. His face burning, and his palms sweaty, Arthur ripped his hands from her hips a moment later. Gwen smiled knowingly, her gaze twinkling, but shook her head and instructed him to lean forward and raise his arms as high as he could without hurting himself. His heart thumping, Arthur followed the command immediately, his face slackening as Gwen leaned down and gripped the hem of his hauberk. Her chest swelled as she drew in a measured breath and the soft curves of her confined breasts tantalised him sweetly; Arthur longed to nuzzle them and inhale the scent of her skin.

His lashes fluttered at the thought.

Gwen helped him out of his hauberk and set it down on the table. She lingered close as Arthur reached up and unlaced his gambeson with one hand and then helped him free his shoulders. Her fingertips grazed the back of his neck for less than an instant and the dam within him creaked as the pressure continued to build. Gwen set his gambeson aside and moved away, but his hand darted out to snare her wrist before she could move too far. His blood roared in his ears as she glanced over her shoulder in surprised confusion.

“I still have it.” Arthur swallowed thickly, wanting the earth to swallow him whole. He hadn’t meant to speak. He hadn’t meant to mention that he’d clung to the barest scrap of what their relationship could have been. But he couldn’t leave the confession hang there like a broken twig now: he had to finish it. His grip tightened a fraction and then eased a moment later. Arthur caressed her wrist with a gentle thumb and expounded softly, “I still have the flower. I couldn’t bear to leave it.”

Gwen squeaked and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Including her laughter. Gwen crashed into him less than a moment later and Arthur grunted as the breath was punched out of him painfully, but couldn’t find the strength to complain as demanding lips claimed his mouth. Her kiss was a storming sea and he was the cliff riddled with crevices waiting to crack and crumble. Arthur crumbled between one heartbeat and the next as Gwen cradled his face possessively, and he opened slowly, almost sweetly, whimpering against her mouth and welcoming the slide of her tongue as her kiss gentled. His veins sang with pleasure and immeasurable longing, knowing he might never get this chance again. His own fingers glided along her arm before falling slowly, teasing the soft swell of her breast for a moment before continuing south and settling at her waist.

Arthur didn’t have a chance to tug before Gwen settled in his lap unprompted. His groin pulsed with pleasure as she settled over his stiffening length. He slipped his arms around her immediately, the hand of his good arm rising to lose itself in her raven curls.

Several pins cascaded to the floor around them.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Arthur whispered when their kiss broke at last. His chest heaved painfully, pulling on his wound. But he didn’t care. Nothing mattered more than the warm weight of the woman in his arms. Arthur rested his brow against hers and listened to her rapid breathing, tempted to watch as her chest heaved in tandem with his. He didn’t let his lashes flutter closed. He couldn’t. Not when familiar cheeks were flushed with pleasure and plush lips were swollen from kissing. A surge of satisfaction swelled in his chest: Gwen was flushed and panting because of him. That knowledge warmed his core and made his length stiffen even further. Almost without thinking, Gwen squirmed on his lap and Arthur almost choked on his tongue. His hand tightened in her hair and another cascade of pins hit the floor. Endless curls framed her delicate shoulders now. His other arm drew Gwen a fraction closer. Her hands braced themselves against his collarbones. “You’ve no idea.”

“I do.” Her voice quivered. Her hips rocked slowly, grinding down against his aching length. Gwen sighed as Arthur moaned and began feathering kisses across her face. Her fingers curled around fistfuls of his tunic. “I’ve wanted this for so long, almost since the moment I came here. Since we bumped into each other and slipped in the mud.”

Arthur choked on a burst of laughter. He remembered the moment well. He remembered circling an enormous tree as he fled from his destiny, from his father and the future that waited for him. He’d had dreams of running to a village far away, of finding an abandoned hovel to live in and building a life for himself. A life without expectation. A life without political alliances and arranged marriages. A life without standing in silence as his father executed people for making a living, for trading with peaceful nomads. He’d had dreams of planting some seeds and living on his own hard work. Arthur remembered the violent pounding of his heart and the sudden cease of momentum as he crashed into something. Someone. He remembered her startled expression and the unexpected warmth of her legs on either side of his hips. He remembered the flash of soft skin as her skirt rode up. Fortunately, the drape of his cloak had helped keep her modest. He remembered the cold mud seeping into his trousers and the sting of his hand after cutting himself on a sharp rock during the fall.

Most importantly, Arthur remembered the rough hand that had hauled him away, and the anger that morphed into confusion as Tom had looked down at him. He must have looked terrified. He’d known it wasn’t proper to knock a girl to the ground even at the tender age of eleven and he wasn’t unaccustomed to receiving a harsh slap when he broke the rules. He’d almost flinched as Tom looked around and he’d feared that his father had discovered he was missing. That he’d sent guards to hunt him down and bring him back to the castle. Arthur had experienced an enormous wave of relief when no one appeared to take him back. He’d dragged in a shaking breath when Tom released him and reached down to help Gwen to her feet. Both of them — and another boy, who’d been watching him suspiciously, like someone waiting for a spider to invade their personal space — had looked down at her ruined dress unhappily, and Arthur had squirmed where he stood.

“I can get that cleaned.” Arthur had fidgeted with his cloak before looking away, his cheeks warming when Gwen scowled at him. His boots had squelched in the mud as he’d shuffled in place. “If you want. I…uh…work in the castle.”

“I doubt it.” Gwen had huffed with irritation. “Rude people don’t work for nobles.”

“I’m not rude!”

“You didn’t even apologise for running into me!”

Arthur had flushed indignantly, but he hadn’t argued the point. He’d curled his hands into fists instead. He’d felt like he’d swallowed an apple the size of his face. He’d glowered down at the ground for a moment before forcing himself to say, somewhat reluctantly, “I apologise. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know that.” Gwen had hesitated. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You’d better be sorry; doubting people isn’t nice either.” Arthur had kicked a twig across the ground before stomping away, unable to help the smile that curled around his mouth as she’d complained to her father. His stomach had writhed as though serpents were slithering around inside him. He’d glanced over his shoulder briefly, his face warming as Gwen raised her fist and shook it at him. He’d realised that remaining in Camelot wouldn’t be so frightening, if it meant he’d get to tease her. It had prompted him to say, “That offer still stands!”

Arthur kissed Gwen deeply, almost sweetly, that moment shared between them warming him. His hand rubbed soothing circles over the small of her back. But far too much visible skin distracted him for Arthur to linger at her mouth for long, however. He abandoned her mouth in pursuit of tantalising skin. He teased kisses along the gentle curve of her jaw and the down the side of her neck as Gwen tilted her head instinctively, offering herself to his touch with a soft eagerness that made his stomach twist. He didn’t deserve this chance. He didn’t deserve to have such a wonderful woman in his arms. But he’d do his best to make it worth her while. Arthur paused at the base of her neck and swallowed the urge to start suckling, to draw blood to the surface and leave a claiming bruise.

Gwen couldn’t afford to have such a mark visible.

His frame tensing, Arthur released a shaking breath and nipped gently, satisfaction flooding his chest as Gwen groaned in his embrace. One of her hands slid upwards to lose itself in his hair. Her fingers twisted sharply, earning a gasp of pleasure as his scalp prickled beneath the pressure.

“Keep going,” Gwen encouraged breathlessly, her cheeks flushing as she ground down against him. His arousal throbbed within his damp trousers. Arthur released another shaking breath and then let his hand descend slowly, slipping free from her glorious curls and grazing her ear before gliding down her neck to the heaving swell of her chest. Her chest rose beneath his touch and stuttered for a moment before falling away, but returned a moment later — as though it couldn’t bear to be free of him. His fingertips trailed across soft skin that dimpled beneath his touch before resting his palm against the laces keeping her modest. Arthur hesitated for a moment. Briefly, the barriers between them raised their hideous heads and his vision blurred in an instant. Gwen seemed to understand his hesitation at once — she’d been wiser and more astute than him from the beginning, though he’d struggled to admit it at first. He’d spent his life being trained to be the best. Knowing that he wasn’t stung. Gwen shivered in his embrace and shuffled closer immediately, planting the heat of her core on top of the swollen head of his arousal. Arthur clutched her fiercely, possessively, his hands trembling beneath the weight of what was brewing between them. He thanked the powers that be for trousers and the protection it provided: neither of them could afford to remove that last barrier separating them. But that didn’t stop Gwen from whispering tremulously, “I want this. I want it so much. You’re not forcing me into this.”

Arthur trailed parted lips and the tip of his tongue back up the delicate arch of her neck. He teased more kisses along the curve of her jaw before claiming her mouth roughly, almost savagely, relishing the groan that rumbled up from her chest. His fingers found the end of one lace and tugged sharply, and their kiss broke as taught fabric eased with each shaking breath that Gwen took. Arthur pressed his brow against hers and couldn’t help smiling shakily, his heart warming when the same smile was reflected back at him. His heart pounding, he eased his hand beneath fabric and the pair of them gasped in tandem as a swollen nipple grazed between his fingers before settling against his palm.

Dazedly, Arthur caressed her breast tenderly, not quite able to believe it was happening. What he was seeing. He couldn’t help staring down at the handful of soft flesh filling his palm and pushing against his fingers so sweetly, so exquisitely, as though her breast was made to fit into the cup of his hand. He’d spent so long fantasising about cradling her breast in his hand that having the chance now felt like a dream. It couldn’t be real. His heart jumped into his throat as Gwen whispered his name as she arched into his touch and the loosening fabric slipped away, revealing the other breast to him without warning, sending his heartbeat into an abrupt gallop. Arthur swallowed thickly, watching the pebbled nub tighten even further.

Arthur couldn’t help himself.

Gwen cried out sharply, her hand tightening in his hair forcefully, sending a wave of searing pain across his scalp. Arthur sighed in contentment as he suckled lightly, her nipple grazing against his tongue. He relished the soft whimpers and encouraging moans that escaped as Arthur alternated between gentle suckles and warm laps of his tongue. Not to mention light tugs from his teeth. He drew her a fraction closer with his bad arm and let his other hand slip away, his palm gliding down her side to find the hem of her skirts — which sat bunched around thighs that flexed with each frantic rock of her hips as Gwen chased her pleasure and drove him to dangerous heights in the process.

It took an overwhelming amount of effort to prevent himself from slamming her down on the table and freeing himself from his trousers. The urge to thrust deep and claim what was his made sweat break out across his skin as Arthur made a concentrated effort to keep himself in control.

He wanted this to be about Gwen and making her feel good.

It wasn’t about taking what he wanted.

Arthur released a shaking breath as his fingers found the soft flesh of her thigh and slid upwards slowly, disappearing beneath the hem of her skirts. It wasn’t long before softness gave ground to a liquid heat. His frame trembling, fighting the urge to claim immediately, he couldn’t help dragging his gaze upwards and gasping, “You’re dripping.”

Gwen was too flushed with pleasure to blush in embarrassment. Her flush of pleasure chased his touch and spread further downwards with each rock of her hips. Her hair was now loose and messy, though a few pins glittered within the mass of curls that caressed her delicate shoulders and spilled down her back. Amber irises were almost eclipsed with the purest black. It was a captivating change and Arthur was lost to her gaze in an instant. Her second hand rose to frame his neck. Her thumb pressed against the apple of his throat possessively; Arthur swallowed thickly, letting his apple push against her touch without an ounce of hesitation.

Gwen was devastating in her beauty, Arthur knew. He’d known that all along, but there was something enchanting about her now. Something special and exquisite. He nuzzled her neck and fantasised about running away, her hand in his and a burlap sack on his shoulder. He fantasised about setting down roots somewhere — where no one knew them and would never suspect that he wasn’t what he seemed. Where no one would suspect that he didn’t belong. That he wasn’t a common man born and raised with seeds in his hand. Arthur fantasised about working with Gwen to turn a simple dwelling into a home. He fantasised about handfasting, about sweeping this vision into his arms and pressing her to their shared bed at last. Arthur groaned softly, shivering, fantasising about thrusting his arousal inside her as he teased her slick heat with nervous fingers.

He’d never done something like this before.

Arthur drew in a calming breath and took strength from the encouraging sighs that caressed his ear as Gwen quivered in his arms. He spread his fingers a fraction and let the swollen nub slide between them. He stroked slowly, carefully, letting his fingertips tease flesh that twitched with hunger. He drew in another calming breath and then slid his hand further until that swollen nub pressed against his palm and his fingers slipped inside her. Gwen stiffened abruptly, a ragged noise escaping her. She clung to him sweetly, desperately, her flesh clenching around his fingers with an unspoken need that threatened to rob the breath from his lungs. Arthur ground down with his palm as his fingers continued stroking, curling and pressing against the secret spot he’d heard about when listening to his men brag and banter around a campfire.

A stream of strangled whimpers caressed his ear.

Momentarily, Arthur drew his bottom lip between his teeth and marvelled at her wetness. Her overwhelming heat. He couldn’t believe this was happening. That she’d let him touch her so intimately, shattering the boundaries between them in the process. Arthur trailed parted lips along the arch of her neck and lapped at the sweat building, his lashes fluttering, relishing the fusion of salt and sweet that graced his tongue as Gwen continued to writhe against his palm and impale herself on his fingers. She rode them carefully, but each rock of her hips was filled with a determination that awed him. Arthur wasn’t sure he could have endured such a torture — it was hard enough to stop himself from breaking his final restraints and replacing his fingers with his aching length. His arm tightened around her and Arthur clenched his jaw as pain sparked across his chest.

Arthur didn’t care about the pain. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman in his arms. He couldn’t fathom stopping. He couldn’t fathom pulling his fingers free. He couldn’t fathom rebuilding the barriers between them.

Not now.

Not when each moan and sigh that escaped her made his heart soar.

Arthur, however, could tell there was something different now. Her eagerness was unquestionable. But her desperation morphed into a frenzy, her muscles twitching and shuddering, the pace of her hips quickening until his hand ached. Arthur watched her. He watched her lashes flutter and her vision grow unfocused. He watched her frame tighten abruptly, her muscles clenching, her hips stilling, and then a strangled moan escaped her as her frame shuddered. He watched her as a rush of wetness drenched his hand and his trousers.

Gwen slumped in his arms.

His heart thundering, Arthur pulled his hand free and raised glistening fingers to his lips curiously; a sharp saltiness and a subtle sweetness greeted his tongue. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he lapped at his fingers. A sense of awe rippled through him. He couldn’t believe this was real. Without thinking, Arthur pushed his damp hand through raven curls and cradled the back of her neck as Gwen seemed to come back to herself slowly, her gaze focusing, settling upon him with a dazed warmth that made his heart constrict within his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her roughly, from sliding his tongue into her mouth with a fervent desperation that couldn’t be quelled. He couldn’t stop himself from rising, relishing the sudden clench of strong thighs around his waist and the slide of arms around his neck. He grunted beneath her added weight and pushed through the pain in his chest as he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed with Gwen in his arms.

Arthur devoured her soft moan as her head hit the pillows. His knees pressed into the uncomfortable mattress between her thighs. His fingers curled into the pillow. His breath shuddered out of him as their kiss broke and his hips rocked briefly, grinding himself against her wetness for a moment or so as he fantasised about claiming her. Fantasised about slamming deep as she demanded more and more from him. Fantasised about flooding her soft core with his seed. Eager fingers dragged down his back. Fingernails teased his flesh through his tunic. Arthur shivered beneath her touch and continued on his way, trailing kisses and teasing nips down the length of her neck before claiming one of her nipples with his mouth again. Gwen moaned beneath his touch and arched sweetly, her breast rising, pushing against his tongue.

Arthur teased both nipples for several moments before continuing, trailing kisses down the length of her bodice and wishing he were kissing vulnerable flesh instead. But he couldn’t risk undressing her completely; it would do nothing but serve to fuel his own desperate need to strip himself and claim her. He focused on Gwen and her reaction to him. Her flushed skin shimmered with sweat. Her generous chest heaved beneath his head. His lips curled around a satisfied smirk as he shuffled further down the bed and relinquished the pillow in favour of resting his hand between her breasts as his head found the fabric hiked around her hips. Arthur placed a kiss beneath the hem of her skirts before turning his head slowly, nuzzling against the warmth of her strong thigh. He trailed parted lips against vulnerable flesh and ascended slowly, turning his head inwards until he reached the soft musk between her thighs.

Arthur inhaled deeply, moaning, knowing he’d never experience something so exquisite again. He pressed a soft kiss against the top of her mound. His lips parted as he sighed in contentment. Gwen twitched beneath him and her hips rose sharply, pushing toward him instinctively, one of her hands darting down to fist his hair and shove him downward with a desperation that warmed him. Arthur swallowed a nervous chuckle and followed the unspoken command tentatively, easing his tongue between wet lips. Coarse hair tickled his cheeks. He ignored it as his tongue grazed that swollen nub he’d teased with his hand earlier and Gwen moaned softly, prompting him to lap at her again. He devoted himself to pleasing her. His tentative licks grew more confident with each moment that passed and soon he was gorging eagerly, his face buried and his hand clutching at flexing muscles clad in soft skin.

Arthur wasn’t certain how much time he devoted to devouring the love of his life. The world dwindled down to the twist and rise of eager hips and the flex of strong muscles. It dwindled down to gasping breaths and ragged moans and the exquisite pain across his scalp as Gwen urged him on. It dwindled down to the greediness blooming in his chest and the insistent throbbing between his own thighs. He didn’t touch himself. He didn’t grind himself against the bed until he found his own release. He didn’t dare. He focused himself on Gwen completely, devoting himself to the pursuit of her ecstasy, urging her to heights he’d never imagined achieving before. Arthur dined on her pleasure four times before she shoved him away, whimpering weakly, “Stop. Too much!”

Dazedly, Arthur withdrew from between her thighs and sat back on his haunches. His face felt wet and warm and sticky, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that his chest ached from his efforts. All he cared about was the woman sprawled out in front of him. His heart jumped into his throat as she reached for him weakly, welcoming him into her embrace. His lungs seized in his chest as her thighs wrapped around his waist and her breasts pressed against his chest sweetly, her nipples teasing him with each ragged breath. His lashes fluttered as Gwen lapped at the evidence of her pleasure until he was clean. His arousal pulsed. Arthur whimpered softly, aware now of the ache blooming between his own thighs. He’d denied himself for so long that his sac was tight with need and his hard length could be used as a weapon. He rocked against her without thinking and groaned desperately, fisting the pillow beside her head with one trembling hand.

Gwen slipped a hand between them.

His hips stuttered to a stop.

“We can’t —"

“I know.”

“I won’t…” Arthur shook his dazed head. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“You will. Just trust me.”

Gwen trailed soft kisses across his face as her fingers tugged insistently, undoing his laces with a determination that terrified him. But it also exhilarated him. An anguished noise escaped him as his constraints eased and Gwen drew him out of his trousers with care. His swollen head grazed her wet lips and his vision blurred sharply, earning a soft noise of understanding from Gwen. Her mouth snared his in a kiss that was more frantic gasping than tongue as her hand stroked him slowly, using her own slick to ease the way, and Arthur lost himself to the sensation in less than an instant.

His hips snapped forward.

Arthur claimed the curl of her fist as he longed to claim her beautiful body, slamming his hips forward with a desperation that scared him. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t quell the ragged cries that escaped him with each frenzied snap of his hips. His swollen head grazed her wet lips with each snap of his hips and tormented him with the knowledge that he’d never be able to close the distance between them. Arthur fisted the pillow so hard that pain shot through his hand and wrist. Need surged in his abdomen. It bubbled and frothed within him as sweat broke out across his body, following the flush that rose steadily, beginning in his face and spreading downwards. The spreading flush punctuated the ragged breaths that tore out of his chest and made kissing Gwen impossible.

His muscles started bunching with his impending climax.

His climax hit him without permission. It punched through his frame like a harsh blow in the arena. His muscles locked abruptly, his hips stuck in the forward position as his climax shuddered through him. His arousal pulsed with each hot burst of seed that splashed across soft skin and coarse hair. His injured chest cried out in pain less than a moment before Arthur collapsed weakly, almost crushing Gwen beneath him.

Arthur blacked out.

 

* * *

 

It was almost dawn when Arthur blinked blearily, confusion rippling through him as he emerged from sleep. It took a moment or so to realise where he was. What he’d done the night before. Arthur gazed down at the raven curls spilling across his chest and smiled groggily; Gwen slept deeply, her leg hooked over his thigh and her arm thrown across his chest. Her bare breasts grazed his side with each breath. She looked so soft and sweet within the curl of his arm. It was hard to believe she’d driven him to such exquisite heights the night before.

Contentment flooded through him.

Arthur squeezed her closer and his smile deepened as Gwen mumbled a few words of unconscious agreement. Her head shuffled closer to his heart. He let himself luxuriate in her presence for several moments before easing away, careful not to wake her. His heart clenched in his chest as Gwen mumbled her discontent and reached for him sleepily, dark lashes fluttering, and unfocused amber irises landing on him.

Arthur knelt next to the bed. He smoothed a raven curl back from her forehead with gentle care and ignored the ache that bloomed in his chest as Gwen smiled sleepily, her fingers curling around his wrist. He couldn’t bear to leave and rebuild the barriers between them. But this couldn’t last. He couldn’t linger for much longer: he needed to head out and make his trek back to Camelot. He needed to make sure he wasn’t found.

“I need to go.”

“Nuh.” Gwen chased his hand as he tried to pull away, nuzzling his palm. “Don’t.”

“I don’t want to. But I have to.” Arthur swallowed as she pressed a kiss against his palm. He leaned over the bed and pressed his head against hers for a moment. He soaked up her warmth like a sponge and vowed he’d never forget the taste and texture of her skin. Her pleasure. He couldn’t bear to forget. He’d need it to keep his heart warm when his father forced him to wed someone he’d never love. Arthur brushed his lips against her raven curls and bit back the three words that weighed upon his tongue. He couldn’t voice them. He couldn’t do that to her. Not when he intended to rebuild the barriers between them and protect her from his father. Not to mention the council. Arthur couldn’t be the man she deserved. His vision blurred at the thought. If Gwen noticed his tears spilling, she said nothing. She just continued to nuzzle his palm. Arthur kissed her forehead and whispered softly, “Think of me.”

“I never stop.” Gwen blinked sleepily, the confession a soft sigh on her lips. It made his heart clench all over again. He squeezed her close to him for a moment and then slipped away, extricating his hand from her grasp despite her unspoken protests. He rose to his feet and turned away, ignoring the wobble in his knees as he hitched his trousers over his hips. A wave of surprise washed through him when he noticed he’d been cleaned. His stomach tightened with guilt: Gwen must have taken care of it after he’d blacked out in the wake of his climax. That should have been his job. Arthur couldn’t help berating himself for his failure to be chivalrous before succumbing to slumber. He fumbled with his laces a moment later when Gwen added dazedly, “Love you. So much.”

His soul surged.

His heart plummeted to the floor and shattered in the same instant.

Arthur stared at nothing, the confession disrupting his thought processes. It was the best moment of his life and the worst: he’d never dared to dream that he’d hear those words from the woman he loved. He’d never dared to hope. Arthur wasn’t a fool. No matter how much he loved her and no matter how much he longed to propose to her one day, he knew it was nothing more than a torturous dream. His father would never allow it. The council would sooner see her hang for daring to snare a nobleman than let him propose to her. It would be safer to keep Gwen at a distance.

A moment passed before Arthur managed to finish securing his laces.

Tentatively, Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Relief and disappointment washed through him when he realised Gwen had fallen asleep while he wasn’t looking. She wouldn’t be watching him leave. She mightn’t even remember their brief conversation. Arthur swallowed thickly, his heart breaking, but knowing it would be the safest outcome — even if he’d cling to her mumbled confession until he died.

Arthur gathered his things quietly, and took one last glance at her sleeping frame before slipping away, pulling the door closed with care. He couldn’t afford to be seen leaving her home now. He’d sooner die than see Gwen harmed. Knowing that his actions protected her gave him the strength to keep going, to keep walking despite the tears dripping down his face as the skies lightened overhead.

It wasn’t the first time he’d shattered his own heart to protect Gwen.

It wouldn’t be the last.  

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to come and say hi on [tumblr](http://rachaelkelleher.tumblr.com/)


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